


Male Reader X Female Kidnappers (Welcome to the Game)

by CampGreen



Category: Welcome to the Game (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Horror, Literature, Multi, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-12-02 02:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampGreen/pseuds/CampGreen
Summary: A Welcome to the Game horror/smutfic. WTTG is developed by Reflect Studios. Please excuse the butchered Russian, I did my best.





	1. The Deep Web

_"The deep web?"_

_"Yeah, you've never heard of the deep web before?"_

_"I heard some guys gossiping about it in like, seventh grade. I dunno much though, what is it?"_

_"It's the part of the internet that's hard to access, so a lot of sickos take advantage of that to fill it up with tons of fucked up shit."_

_"Like what?"_

  _"Gore, child porn, arms deals, that kind of shit."_

  _"Oh, so like an online black market?"_

_"Exactly."_

_"Have you ever been on it before?"_

_"A few times, yeah."_

_"...how do you get to it?"_

_"All you need is Tor. It's a software that makes you go anonymous. It's like the boat ride from the surface net to the deep web."_

_"That's all?"_

_"Pretty much. Well, you always need plenty of V-..."_ Louis's voice goes quieter. _"Oh shit, my mom's up, gotta go man, see you later!"_

_"Night."_

Louis hangs up, leaving you alone on your belly and in the bed. You took a huge nap earlier today so you're far from tired, your parents are working overtime, and all of your friends are asleep. With boredom and curiosity eating away at your soul, you install Tor onto your phone. However, even after waiting a while, it doesn't seem to have done anything. Figuring Louis forgot to mention something, you go back to surfing the web, praying you'll stumble upon something interesting. After a few minutes of purposelessly wandering the surface net, your finger accidentally hits the wrong result during a search. For a while, all it displays is a white loading screen. Your connection's just fine, so what's taking so long? You look at the URL and see that it's just a mishmash of random characters ending in ".onion.to/wiki/Main_Page". The page finally loads and you've entered a web directory called "The Hidden Wiki". This site's been anonymized by Tor. You're on the deep web. With a giddy love for taboo stirring in your stomach, you scroll through the index of forbidden links like you just slipped into an R-rated movie showing as a kid. You begin to explore and find awesome sites like confession generators, hardcore porn videos, and drug markets. The endless array of confessions you read are hilarious, and you put one in yourself to finally get that one thing off your chest. The porn is great but nothing you couldn't find on the surface net. The market's deals are too good to be true, probably scams but you save the link just in case. 

Then you start finding the more questionable material. Live hidden cams showing people undressing, masturbating, or having sex, a marketplace for firearms, and advertisements for dirt cheap surgery by "professionals". This is starting to get weird but still kinda harmless. Despite the fact it was the invasion of people's privacy, you'd be lying if you said you didn't drool at a few of the things you saw. Saving that link too. Then you almost throw up in your mouth. You've peeled back the deep web's layers one by one like an onion and you've finally stumbled upon the digital equivalent of the criminal underground. Forums exchanging graphic child pornography like trading cards, documents of horrific human experimentation, livestreams of people being tortured to death, chatrooms for satanic cults to casually meet and greet, human trafficking markets bidding slaves off like items, nauseating pictures of autopsies, mutilations, and car accidents, black hat hackers offering to doxx people for a price. This is the kind of sickening garbage that's given the deep web its reputation. It's a goldmine of snuff. Disgusted, you retreat and you're refreshed to see your normal old screensaver again. It was a small roller coaster ride but you think you're done with the deep web, at least for tonight. You want to sleep but it's gonna be hard, with all of those terrible images burned into your brain, not to mention the knowledge that there's so many awful people out there doing all of those awful things. As you try to forget it so you can doze off, your phone starts ringing. It's Louis's number. 

_"Hello?"_ you answer.

  _"Hey, (Y/N), it's me again. Uh, you didn't...go to the deep web, did you?"_

 A small sensation of fear strikes your throat. _"Uh, why?"_

  _"Can you answer my question first?"_

  _"N-No, why? You're scaring me a bit, Lou."_

_"It's just, I got interrupted before I could finish explaining it to you."_

_"Well, what were you gonna say?"_

_"I was gonna say to never ever browse the deep web without plenty of VPNs."_

  _"What are VPNs?"_

_"Virtual private networks. They hide your IP from all the tracers swarming the deep web like flies."_

_"...tracers?"_

_"Yeah, they prey on all the uninformed idiots who go in without VPNs, selling their IP address for the highest bidder. I'm not sure who they sell them too though, I heard Russian criminals but the deep web has plenty of dumb myths surrounding it. Anyways, I was just checking up on you, thought you were gonna go off to be one of those poor bastards and get kidnapped or something. I better not keep the both of us up, I'm gonna head back off. Night."_

_"...night..."_

Aw fuck. You hurriedly research the relationship between the deep web and VPNs and find Louis was completely right. No one in their right mind would ever browse the deep web without several VPNs or proxies protecting their identity. You feel like you just ran with scissors, something so obviously and stupidly dangerous. You were surfing for hours, there's no way your personal info hasn't already fallen into the hands of...well, you're not sure. Louis said Russian kidnappers, which sounds just dangerous enough to be scared of, but just exaggerated enough to laugh off. Now you're really not going to be able to sleep. After shuffling around in your covers for about an hour, you sharply drag yourself into the bathroom to take some melatonin from the medicine cabinet. Washing it down with a glass of warm milk, you snuggle back under your sheets and you're able to almost relax into a few hours of sleep. Almost. Right before consciousness slips from your body, you hear something at your window. 

A very faint creak that sounds like someone's trying to open it but can't, since it's locked. You're paralyzed with fear by the sound, and you don't even dare to breathe. After several minutes of silence, you creep out of your bed and peek through the window shutters. There's a white van parked across the street. You crawl under your bed with your phone in hand. The symptoms of overwhelming fear are as destructive to your body as the flu. Your heart and throat are frozen, your veins pound in your ears, and every muscle you have trembles. You are sickened with terror. Right before you dial 911, the doorknob turns. An out-of-body experience invests your mind. You're in a nightmare. You fell asleep and your subconscious mind is being haunted by the deep web scour from last night. But if this is a nightmare, why won't you wake up? The door slowly creaks open, and a pair of black boots enter the room. First it checks your shutter closet, then the window. You clench your eyes shut and begin silently praying, praying your parents will arrive, or something, anything. You sink into the blackness behind your eyelids in an attempt to escape reality. After an eternity of soul-rending dread, your eyes open. The boots are gone.

 

_"Добрый вечер."_


	2. Home Invasion

A hand slaps down onto your ankle and you're dragged out from beneath the bed. You scream and thrash at the top of your lungs and you get a good look at the home invader. Two sunken eyes stare into yours from behind the protection of a black balaclava. The invader's in a t-shirt with fingerless gloves, cargo pants, and those two boots that were stomping about your room, all as black as the ski-mask. Most notably, however, is the gang tattoo snaking up one of their muscular arms. After your brain registers this character, a fist flies into your face and throws you straight into that sleep you were begging for earlier. You awake to the sound of talking, a seething, heavy pain radiating off your face, a black eye. You're in the back of a dark van, mouth gagged by a black band and wrists restrained behind your back by what feels like plastic handcuffs. Your pajamas are also missing, leaving you completely nude on the cold floor. Blood leaking out your mouth and nose, you overhear the foreign conversation happening between what must be the driver and passenger, both clearly rough-sounding women.

_"Сейчас мы в стране. У ребенка красивое лицо. Я очень влажный там. Хотите остановиться и трахнуть его? Это займет всего минуту."_

_"Мне все равно, так или иначе. Ольга, что ты скажешь?"_

_"да,"_ a third voice, also a woman, says, this one sounding much closer to you. _"Я не кончу через неделю. Сделаем это."_

The van comes to a gradual halt. You can hear grass, leaves, and peddles crunching from beneath its tires. You're turned over, and three blurry, full-figured shapes loom over you.

 _"Черт, ты был прав, Саша,"_ one of the shapes says. _"Ты поймал симпатичного парня. Нам будет очень весело."_

The toes of a boot slam into your stomach, making you gasp in pain and spit up blood. The three women simultaneously laugh at your misfortune. The haze drains from your eyes and all of your captives look and are dressed just like the home invader. The trio of masked sadists unleash a brutal series of kicks and punches to your naked body, shredding your skin and littering you with fat bruises. You scream and sob from underneath your tight gag, agony and fear surging through your bloodstream as you're hammered into a pulp by six boots and six fists. Finally easing up on the relentless battering of your defenseless, restrained body, one of the kidnappers get on her hands and knees at your shoulder and lifts up her shirt to expose her breathtaking bosom, which she promptly drops down onto your flaccid penis.

 _"Христос, эта вещь, как червь ребенка,"_ one of the other kidnappers chortles as she watches her partner devour your cock from between her tits. _"Все ли американцы такие маленькие?"_

She grabs her tits, so large and gelatinous her fingertips gets lost in all of the skin, runs them up your sandwiched shaft as it disobediently thickens and solidifies. The sensation of such a pillowy texture confining and stroking one of the most sensitive parts of your body makes you moan in unwanted gratification. She brings her breasts up and down and up and down as they tightly encase your cock, forcing you into squirms and whines. The aching pain arousing your nerves from your scalp to your soles is replaced with the best pleasure of your life, far surpassed by the countless times you've jacked off. The second kidnapper takes after the first and gets on your other side, before undressing herself of her shirt, getting on her knees, and enveloping the rest of your cock between her cleavage after the other makes room. With a whopping four cushiony breasts swirling around your cock, your testes reach a boiling point and a gusher of cum explodes up out of your balls, through your dickhole, and far over your head.

 _"Иисус, малыш, несомненно, может стрелять, по крайней мере,"_ a kidnapper remarks as one of them starts stripping their military pants and boots off to expose their strapping legs. One of them sits on your stomach while the bottomless one sits on your neck. Her vagina stands high at your chin, and she clutches your head as an invitation to eat out. You refuse, turning your lips away from the damp cooch as it waits atop your jaw. The kidnapper grabs you by the hair and violently slams your skull against the metal floor, sending a lightning bolt of dull torment to strike through your head.

 _"Ешь, сука!"_ she growls.

You submissively yield and start running the tip of your tongue up and down her slit as juice leaks from it. Meanwhile, downstairs, a pair of tongues start tickling and saturating your genitals, one for your penis, the other for your balls. You juggle between getting debilitated from the rapture engulfing your pelvis and wheeling the tip of your tongue around one of the kidnapper's clits. You're forced into multiple orgasms and lose count after the sixth one in a row. The pleasure devolves to even more pain as the muscles in your penis distort and the drought of semen leaves your urethra unlubricated. You realize the only way they'll stop is if the top dog is satisfied. The only way to cease the fever dreamish hell of bizarre suffering and indulgence is to get one of the women on top of you to climax. After a grueling gauntlet of licking the kidnapper's snatch dry of all its watery, fleshy contents, a jet of sharp, clear liquid comes firing out her insides and straight into your mouth, making you drown as what feels like the entire damn ocean is emptied down your throat. The three kidnappers get off of you and the one changes back into her pants while the other changes back into her shirt, leaving you in the middle of the van in a pool of your own blood, sweat, and cum. Two of the criminals return to the front seats, and as you pant and rasp as the melting pot of emotions shock and torture the billions of your nerves, the third kidnapper leans over, grabs a handful of your hair, and whispers something in your ear through her mask and with her raspy voice, your assailants' first and only words in English.

_"If you thought that was bad, you're gonna really hate what's at the end of this road trip, kid."_

The van sputters to life and continues its drive through the nightly backwoods.  



End file.
